NL·Point of View

He loved being 'crooked': I remember the day I rubbed John Crosbie's belly

When Wanita Bates moved to St. John's in 1996, she fell in love with the people, the accents, and the unique Newfoundland vernacular. So much so, she and her business partners created a line of T-shirts with some of those words and sayings.

Wanita Bates · for CBC N.L. · Posted: Jan 26, 2020 4:30 PM EST | Last Updated: January 26, 2020

John Crosbie models his 'Crooked' T-shirt with Wanita Bates in the summer of 2001. (Liz Duff)

When I heard John Crosbie had passed away, I was sad that we'd lost a great man, but a memory of him made me smile.

I moved to St. John's in December 1996. I loved it here. The people, the accents, the Newfoundland words and sayings. My partner Liz's mother was always going out for a "twack." She'd be gone for a couple of hours, and I wasn't sure if she was robbing a bank or golfing. Turns out, twack was to window shop with no intention of buying.

I was taken with the Dictionary of Newfoundland and Labrador English — and I thought it would be a good idea to print the words and their definitions on T-shirts and sell them. Two friends and I started our company in the summer of 2001.

I had worked at a newspaper and wrote a bargain shopping fashion column. I knew that a press release about T-shirts would be plain, simple and boring, and most likely would get tossed out.

I knew we needed something big. We needed a Newfoundland celebrity to throw on one of our shirts. My mind went to John Crosbie. Now to get one of our T-shirts on him.

Liz and I worked on an election campaign for Sheilagh Guy-Murphy. Sheilagh and Jane Crosbie were great friends. I told Sheilagh what we wanted to do, so she picked up the phone and called Jane and told her about our shirts and how we wanted to get John to wear one. Jane said, "Yes."

It's well known how fiercely proud John Crosbie was of his home province. (CBC)

We arranged a time and got directions to their home on Hogan's Pond.

Liz drove and said she felt intimidated about going to the Crosbies' home. I brought the T-shirt with the word "Crooked" on the front.

It was a beautiful sunny day as we drove into their yard. There in front of us stood John Crosbie, in a pair of shorts and short-sleeved top. I was thrilled. We shook hands and I told him what a pleasure it was to meet him. I called him "sir." He drawled back at me, "Call me John."

Liz recalls how unassuming and ordinary he was, and changing shirts for us was no big deal. Jane stood in the background making comments.

I took several photos of him in the "Crooked" tee. If you live here in Newfoundland, you know that the word "crooked" doesn't mean what it does on the mainland. "Crooked" means grumpy or cranky. You may hear someone saying, "You're some crooked." Crosbie smiled and laughingly said something about people calling him that. He was delightful and not at all crooked.

Liz took a photo of John Crosbie and me. I was right chuffed. He went to change back into his shirt when he remarked about the protruding bulge on his belly. It was a hernia and it was painful.

"Can I touch it?" I asked.

"Go on," he said.

Liz squawked out, "Wanita!"

John Crosbie smiled, no big deal.

I have deep respect for Jane and John Crosbie. I think if you looked up the phrase 'down to earth' in the dictionary, you may see a photo of them.

They had all the time in the world for us. Jane walked us around her gorgeous garden for about 10 minutes, pointing out plants that came back and moves she was going to make with others.

We couldn't thank the two of them enough. "Look for your photo in the paper!"

We got in the car to leave. "I just felt John Crosbie's belly." Liz was still mortified.

I went home and phoned my mother in Ontario. "Guess who I just met?" I told her John Crosbie. She was impressed. "And I felt his hernia."

"Wanita!" She also sounded mortified.

Canadian Press picked up the story of our T-shirts and a photo of John Crosbie. It went from coast to coast, in papers from Vancouver to St. John's, and provinces in between.

Lt.-Gov. John Crosbie arrives with his wife Jane to read the throne speech at the legislature in St. John's on March 22, 2010. (Paul Daly/The Canadian Press)

Many people including friends would ask, "How did you talk him into wearing that T-shirt?"

"I just asked him."

It's been said that "the true measure of a man is how he treats someone who can do him absolutely no good."

I could do no good for John but he did good for me. He wore our shirt and we got lots of publicity. He let me touch his belly and in turn gave me a great story. The Crosbies were lovely to us. That Christmas, Jane called to tell me to come down to Hogan's Pond. She had a present for us.

I have deep respect for Jane and John Crosbie.

I think if you looked up the phrase "down to earth" in the dictionary, you may see a photo of them. If you look up John Crosbie's hernia, you might see a photo of me.

To me, John Crosbie was Newfoundland and Labrador. A piece of our province is gone.